


how the lights stain your eyes

by curiouscorvid (prometheanTactician)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Human Michael, M/M, Miscommunication, Sexual Content, Sexual Miscommunication, Unhealthy sense of self
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22583641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prometheanTactician/pseuds/curiouscorvid
Summary: Gerard Keay is one of the most famous singers in the world. Michael Shelley is just some guy that Gerard finds attractive.But Michael is in love, and will take what he can get.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 258





	how the lights stain your eyes

It's hard to think of anything when he's like this.

It's hard to worry about anything when he's like this.

Usually, he's anxious. Usually, he's nervous. Usually he overthinks everything and doubts every move and every word. Usually he agonizes over how people perceive him. Even as he's at the show, watching Gerry perform, his stomach is twisted into knots. Even when security lets him backstage to wait because they recognize him, he's worried this will be the time they tell him Gerry doesn't want to see him anymore.

The security staff aren't the only ones that recognize him. The assistants do, too, and the makeup artists, and the band's manager. They treat him well. They know him by name. They give him water and offer him snacks and ask if he needs anything. They told him, at the start of all this, that Gerry told them to make sure he's comfortable. Michael thinks that's very nice of him, and he dreads the day he stops being important enough for Gerry to bother. Dreads the day Gerard stops caring.

"He's always so excited to see you," the manager tells him, smiling fondly as they watch Gerard sing his heart out. "He's happier than I've ever seen him, since you came along."

It's nice that Gerry is happy, but that's not really anything Michael did. The manager doesn't say it, but Michael knows:

He could be anyone.

It wouldn't matter. He's there to provide Gerry with one thing, and nothing else matters. It just so happens that Gerry has taken a liking to having him, specifically, waiting backstage. But Gerard could have anyone, and one day he won't want it to be Michael anymore. Even now, Michael is sure he isn't the only one. He's never heard of anyone else but that doesn't mean they don't exist.

But it's hard to worry about any of that when he's like this. 

It's hard to keep worrying when Gerard finishes his set and comes backstage, breathless and sweaty and smiling widely, eyes shining bright silver like they're stained by the stage lights. They glow brighter when he sees Michael, as he goes straight for him. 

Michael perks up and smiles, waves a little awkwardly, but the awkwardness is covered when Gerry reaches him. When he swoops down and catches him in a searing kiss, his hands cradling Michael's jaw and his tongue already in Michael's mouth. The kiss is heated, packed with the residual energy from the show. With everything Gerard puts into his performances you'd think he'd be exhausted afterwards, but Michael knows better than anyone that that isn't the case.

He can't fret in the limo on the way to Gerard's hotel, because he's immediately pulled into Gerry's lap. Gerry asks if this is alright, and Michael says yes. It's automatic, because it doesn't matter. Gerard's hands are on his hips and his mouth is on Michael's neck, kissing and sucking and biting his way down to his collarbone, rolling his hips up against him. Michael can't imagine how Gerry wears such tight pants all the time. His own loose jeans are feeling uncomfortable as it is. 

He can't take time to worry in the elevator either, even though it's a long trip to the penthouse suite. The moment the doors close Michael is being lifted against the wall, made to wrap his arms around Gerry's neck and his legs around his waist. Gerry asks again if this is alright. Michael repeats his consent. But Gerry pauses, studies him for a moment, searches his face for something. Michael panics, surges forward and kisses him hard. He is promptly kissed breathless as Gerard grinds into him. He used to be embarrassed about the sounds Gerry could get from him, but he can't even manage embarrassment anymore and even if he could… He knows by now that Gerry likes him loud.

And he tries so hard to stay how Gerard likes him. 

He can't manage to be anxious when Gerard has him in bed. He can't be self conscious when Gerry is pounding him into the mattress. It's all he can do to hold on tight, bury his face in the crook of Gerard's neck and try to be a good fuck. A fuck worth keeping around. So he doesn't pass out afterwards, even though he's worn out and exhausted. He stays awake, and observant, so he'll know when Gerry is ready to go again. When he is, Michael flips them over and pushes him down. He rides him hard and puts on a show. He keeps Gerry's eyes burning and on him, keeps him interested.

Because Michael loves Gerard, and if this is all Gerry keeps him around for… If this is the only way Michael can be with him…

Then he'll take what he is given, and he will do his best not to lose it.

The hardest part is the third round. When Gerry is as tired as Michael, finally coming down from the high of the show. That's the point where the heat settles, simmering and sweet. That's when Gerry holds him closer, kisses him softer, rocks into him slower. It's harder to keep it together, when Gerard moves like they're making love and looks at him like he cares. When the whispers he speaks into Michael's skin stain him with poisonous ideas of love and romance. Those are the hardest parts, because if there's any one thing that would bring all of it crashing out then that would be Michael bursting into tears. And every single time, this gentle treatment damn near breaks him.

He's allowed to fall asleep at that point, but he tries not to. He tries to stay awake just to savour the feeling when Gerry holds him close and drifts off. He waits until he's sure Gerard is asleep. Then he brings his hand up to where Gerry has an arm wrapped around him from behind. Laces their fingers together. Gerard's hand squeezes his own, and Michael lets himself imagine that Gerry is awake and doing that consciously.

That's when it all finally catches up to him.

The first sob surprises him. It rises from somewhere deep in his chest and hitches in his throat, escapes without his permission. It's silent, though. Even his tears know not to make themselves a bother. He tries to keep the movements to a minimum too. He keeps his shoulders from jolting with sobs, swallows them down when he thinks that they might be too noticeable. He doesn't want Gerry to wake up. Doesn't want him to see. If Gerry catches him crying, if Michael starts bringing trouble and drama and emotions into their arrangement…

There's no way Gerard will keep him around anymore.

"Michael?"

He freezes. Gerard sounds groggy and barely there, still half asleep. If Michael stays still and stays quiet, maybe he won't notice anything and just… pass out again. So he holds his breath, and tries to stop shaking.

Then Gerard squeezes his hand again, runs a thumb along the back of Michael's hand in such a casually affectionate gesture—

He doesn't let the sound of the sob escape, but it still shakes through him as it forms. Gerard is pressed so tightly against him that there's no way to hide it.

"Michael?" Gerard asks again, clearer and more present. When Michael doesn't answer, Gerry props himself up on an elbow, tries to see him in the dark. Michael looks straight ahead at the city lights through the huge penthouse window. He knows they must be reflecting off of the tears on his face. He also knows Gerry must see them, because Gerard inhales sharply and lets go of his hand.

He trails his hand up Michael's arm to his shoulder, pressing gently to try to get him to roll over. Michael allows it. Like most things that happen to him in life, there's just no point resisting. He expects Gerry to curse in annoyance or sigh harshly when he sees Michael's tear-streaked face head on.

He doesn't expect Gerard to gently wipe his tears with his hands.

"Hey," Gerry speaks softly, despite them being the only two people in the room. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He lies, pointlessly. Gerry doesn't even acknowledge it.

"Did I hurt you?" His hand is running through Michael's hair now, giving up on the tears that keep falling. "I tried not to be too rough—"

"You can be as rough as you like," Michael tells him, automatically. The hand in his hair pauses for a moment.

"I don't want to hurt you, Michael."

"I don't mind."

"I do. And I also don't want you to just… not mind. I want you to enjoy yourself."

"I do."

"You're crying."

"Please don't worry about it," Michael begs 

"Too late, I'm worried," Gerry shoots back easily, like it isn't the end of everything. "What's going on? Did I do something? Say something?"

"No, no, it… It isn't you."

"Well, clearly _something_ happened."

"Gerry, really, don't worry about it. You have an early flight, you should sleep—"

"You think I'll just turn around and go to sleep when you're crying right next to me?"

"Right." Michael understands. It's nice of Gerry to let him stay the night after they've had their fun, but in this case he's causing more trouble than he's worth. He sits up. "Right. I'll go."

"What?" Gerry sits up properly too, sounding genuinely shocked and more than a little upset. 

"I… I'll go? You have an early flight and you can't sleep with me carrying on like this right next to you, so—"

"I'm not kicking you out, Michael! I don't give a fuck about my flight or whatever, I'll sleep on the plane!"

"Gerry, it's fine—"

"No, it isn't! It isn't fine, Michael! You're crying, you're upset, and— and it's not fine!"

He didn't mean for this to happen. He didn't mean to make Gerard so upset, to make him sound so distressed.

"Please, just… just talk to me. Okay? I want to help. I know I'm busy, and that I'm gone a lot, and that I don't… have a lot of time to just sit down and talk to you about things but… but if something is hurting you… You can tell me about it."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"You're not a bother, Michael. Okay, just… yes or no, did I hurt you?"

"No."

There's a heavy sigh of relief, tension slipping from Gerard's shoulders where the city lights trace their soft edges. Michael doesn't understand why that would be such a big deal.

"Did I… say something that upset you?"

"No."

A long pause.

"Oh. So, then… is this about something that happened before tonight? Did someone say something to you? The paparazzi haven't been harassing you again have they? I know it upset you last time. You said it was fine but… it pretty clearly wasn't."

"Last time?" His brow furrows as he tries to remember.

"Yeah, I saw it on one of those gossip channels. They were asking you about us. It seemed to get to you, but you kept saying you didn't mind and I wasn't sure how to ask about it." 

There's a long pause where Michael doesn't know what to say. Finally, Gerry sighs and continues. "I… know this life is hard. It isn't for everybody. If… if you find it's getting to you, or that it's too much… You can tell me. I won't take it personally. Maybe I can help. If not… well, I don't want to lose you but I won't make you stay if you're miserable."

"Make me stay?" Michael laughs shakily. What an absurd thought. "Like there's anywhere else I'd rather be?" 

The lights let him see Gerry smile when he says that. It shines brighter than any of them. Gerard leans in, presses a kiss to his cheek where the tears have formed new trails. Then he kisses the other side as well. Love wells up inside of Michael.

He chokes on it.

He bites down on the sob, trying to muffle it. But Gerard is already alerted and notices regardless. He pulls Michael into himself, folds him into his arms and holds him close. Michael can do nothing but fall into it and try not to think of how impermanent it all is.

"I'm sorry," Gerry tells him. "I… I was trying to be comforting. I didn't mean to make you cry again."

"No, i-it's fine. You're fine—"

"But you _aren't_. And that's all that matters to me right now."

"Please don't say that," Michael gasps in pain.

"What? Why not? It's true." He insists, but Michael is already shaking his head against Gerard's shoulder. "It is! I don't understand, why can't I say that you matter to me?"

"Because I _don't_!" Michael finally snaps, yanking himself out of Gerard's embrace and throwing himself out of the bed. He might as well get dressed. Might as well get ready to leave.

" _What?_ "

"I _don't_ matter to you! I know I don't! And that's _fine_ , Gerard, I know what this is and what I am and where we stand, but— But I can't handle you acting like you _care_ about me—"

" _Acting?_ " Gerry watches with wide eyes, but Michael can't even look at him. "What are you talking about?! Wait, don't— don't go, please—" He finally stumbles out of bed as Michael lurches for the door.

"Why would you want me to stay?!"

"Because you're standing here saying shit about how I don't care about you and how you don't matter to me, when neither of those things are true! And you're saying a bunch of cryptic bullshit about 'what this is' and 'where we stand' but I have no fucking _clue_ what you're talking about!" Gerry pulls on his jeans, presumably so he doesn't have to have this conversation naked while Michael is fully clothed. "You can't just talk like that and run off!"

" _Why_ would you want me to stay?!" He finally dares to demand.

He stands at the door, arms tightly wrapped around himself. The doorknob waits for his hand, patient. But it remains neglected. 

He doesn't _want_ to go.

"Because I'm worried about you!" Gerry joins him near the door, hovering and hesitant. Michael doesn't understand why he seems so unsure. So stressed out. Kicking him out should be simple. Why is he holding on so tightly to someone so unimportant?

"Why?!"

"What do you mean _why_?!" Gerry throws his hands up. "You're crying your eyes out, talking about how you _don't matter,_ running out in the middle of the night—"

"Why do you _care_?!" He clarifies. Gerard seems no less confused.

"Because you're my boyfriend and I love you!"

Silence falls in the space between them. It carries a presence, entirely unwelcome.

"... What?" Michael whispers. It's hard to tell with the small amount of light, but he thinks Gerard is blushing.

"Shit. Fuck, I— okay, don't uh… don't freak out? I know it's kinda soon for the L word, I didn't mean to say it- I'm not trying to be weird or anything, I _know_ we've only been together for like—"

"Together," Michael repeats blankly. "As in, dating. A relationship. Boyfriends."

"... Yes? As in, the thing that we are?" He sounds so sure. So confident. Like it's obvious. Like this is something they both know. Michael doesn't say anything, and the longer he goes without saying anything the more tension he sees enter Gerry's shoulders. "... Michael. You… what did you think this was?"

"I should go."

"What did you think this was, Michael?"

"Gerry—"

" _No_ , Michael, what did you think we've been _doing_ for the past five months? _What did you think this was_ ? A five month _fling_ where you're the only person I sleep with? A fling where I send gifts and pay to bring you to all my shows so I can always have you around?"

"... I… just thought you really liked having sex with me."

"I mean, I _do_ , but that's not— that's not—" Michael doesn't recall if he's ever seen Gerry look so lost. "... Michael, have you spent almost six months thinking I was using you for sex?"

Michael doesn't answer. He doesn't know how. 

"...Oh, my God," Gerard takes a deep, shuddering breath. Even in the low light, he looks like he's going to be sick. "Oh, my God."

"I'm sorry—"

" _No_." Gerry cuts him off immediately, with an intensity Michael doesn't know what to do with. "I'm sorry, Michael. I'm… _I'm_ sorry." He stumbles backwards, away from Michael. The backs of his knees hit the bed. He sits heavily on the edge, drops his head into his hands.

"...Gerry?" He approaches warily. Michael has no idea what's going on or where this leaves him, but he won't leave while Gerard looks so… so sad. He drops down to his knees in front of where he's sitting. It's a position that's familiar to them, but for different purposes.

"I know I'm not great at relationships." Gerard speaks to the floor. "I didn't think I was so bad at them that I could spend almost half a year making someone I love think they're nothing to me but an easy fuck."

His fingers tighten in his hair. Michael reaches out without thinking, puts his hands over Gerard's, tries to ease them off. They go easily, dropping into Michael's waiting hands. Gerry lifts his head a bit, looks tentatively at Michael.

"It… it isn't that you're bad at it,” Michael starts, carefully choosing his words. "You never made me… feel objectified, or like I was only good for one thing. I just… assumed that I was. I assumed that's why you kept me around, I assumed I wasn't good for anything else, I… assumed you could never— that I wasn't… enough to ever be more than that to you."

Gerard shakes his head, his hands trembling as Michael holds them.

"I never explicitly told you any differently, though. I just… thought you knew."

"I think maybe we need to... communicate more effectively," Michael sighs, squeezing Gerry's hands. They squeeze back, and he manages a small smile. "That is, if you want to keep—"

"Yes," Gerry tells him immediately. "I mean, if you want to. I'll try harder to be more… obvious. But I meant what I said. I love you. Sorry if that… freaks you out."

"It would be strange if it did, since I love you, too."

Gerry looks down at their hands, still holding each other tightly.

"...I don't want to leave you behind this time. I mean, I never do, but especially after this." He whispers. "I know it's an early flight and we're both going to be tired but… Will you come with me tomorrow? For the rest of the tour?"

A part of Michael whispers that it will just be more convenient for Gerard that way. That it will be easier if he has Michael on hand and close by. But Gerry is looking at him so openly, so vulnerable in his distress.

And Michael wants so badly to believe him.

He wants to believe that Gerard loves him. He wants to trust that Gerard cares about him. He doesn't want to keep doubting and fretting and crying and pining and yearning for someone who could never love him. And he was being honest when he said Gerry had never done or said anything to encourage such a view of their relationship, or such a view of himself. And now here he is, telling Michael the exact opposite. 

Why is it so easy to believe something Gerry has never even hinted at? Why is it so hard to believe something he's being told straight out?

Why is he so sure Gerry could never love him?

Why did he accept that as gospel? Why did he go along with it? Why did he keep coming back, despite the pain it caused him.

He doesn't know. But it deserves to be considered.

"I'll come with you wherever you like,” he says finally. “If you want me around."

"I always want you around," Gerry tells him, lifting their hands to kiss Michael's knuckles.

"Oh, good," Michael replies. "Because I never want to leave."

Gerry finally smiles.

Michael can't resist kissing him.


End file.
